


Laugh, I Nearly Died

by DeadPoets_Darlings



Series: Laugh, I Nearly Died [1]
Category: Superatural
Genre: F/M, Female Reader, Fluff and Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, Imagination, Interactive Fiction, Interactive Reader, Kinda, Masturbation, Minor cursing, My first smut fic, NSFW, No Wincest, Other, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Smut, a little fluff in a way, being caught in the act, death of readers family mention, imagining threesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 10:56:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4302132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeadPoets_Darlings/pseuds/DeadPoets_Darlings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After finally returning home from a long and exhausting hunt, you and the Winchesters collapse onto the couches in the Bunker living room. While the boys managed to fall into unconscious sleep within moments, you however are struggling to relax and decide to listen to music until you can convince yourself to sleep. That is until a song that has never failed in getting you going plays and you think of a much better way to come down from the stress of the latest hunt and tire yourself out enough to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laugh, I Nearly Died

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic so any constructive criticism and/or comments are greatly appreciated! 
> 
> Also, at the *** I suggest you play the song this fic was inspired by which is "Laugh, I Nearly Died" by The Rolling Stones. 
> 
> I'm also willing to do a second part if people want it.

**Reader Gender:**  female **  
Warnings:**   minor injuries to reader and the Winchesters, mention of death of reader's family, fluff, smut, masturbation, getting caught (no embarrassment), mentions of possible future sexy times/threesome, minor swearing

** ________________ **

**_Part 1:_ **

The last pile of dirt was tossed over the makeshift graves and you trudged behind the Winchesters, glancing back to make sure there were no visible signs you had ever been there. This hunt had gone nowhere near how you'd expected. Every sign and witness report had indicated the presence of two, maybe three vampires, but the second Dean broke down the front door of the foreclosed suburban house, you'd been surrounded by twice that many. Thankfully you all had escaped the fight with only minor injuries. The worst ones being a small bite mark on Dean's neck that wasn't very deep and a gash on Sam's arm. None of the injuries were bad enough to cause worry and they decided to wait until you'd all returned to the safety of the bunker before tending to them. You had acquired some nicks and bruises, nothing new and nothing you hadn't gotten used to over the years. As you approached the impala you considered shoving your way between Sam and Dean in the front seat so you could rest your head against one of them and sleep, but dismissed the thought. It was a five hour drive back to the bunker and the last thing you needed was your exhaustion-muddled brain digging up fantasies about the boys while you were pressed against them. Besides, in the back seat you could lie down, stretch out, gaze out the window, and count streetlights until you drifted into unconsciousness. Slowly, you climb into the back; every muscle in your body aches and buzzes from the fading adrenaline and a sigh escapes your lips as you relax against the cool leather seats of the impala.

Around three in the morning Sam rouses you from sleep and you faintly register the familiar surroundings.

"We back home?" You mumble, hoping your words were coherent enough for Sam to understand. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you ease yourself out of the impala, groaning as your joints creak.

You step into the bunker and as Dean closes the door, you feel a wave of relief wash over you. You are always surprised at how stressful it is being out in the world, living out of crap motels and eating nothing but diner food. It was what you had grown used to and what you had expected to be doing for the rest of your life. It wasn't all bad; the constant insanity of moving and unfamiliarity kept you alert and on edge, but the bunker was always comforting. There was never an evil presence waiting behind the next corner or lurking in the shadows and it reminds you of times before you knew all of the monsters in stories and in your nightmares really existed. Unlike the Winchesters, you weren't raised a hunter, but had found your way into the profession after some creature killed every person you cared about. That tragedy led to research, buying your first gun, training, and hitting the road to hunt it down and get your revenge. Meeting the Winchester brothers along the way was a happy accident. You ran into them at some coffee shop in Southern California and found you were hunting the same thing and after several loud fights and you nearly stabbing Dean in the neck out of frustration, the three of you agreed to team up. It took a month and a half to decipher the creature's pattern and track it to a town in Wyoming, and then another two weeks to hunt down and kill the damn thing.

Once it was dead and gone, you were completely lost and overwhelmed. You had spent every waking second of the last few years in search of revenge and it was finally over, but it wasn't like you had anything left to go back to; everyone from your old life was dead and you didn't have a clue where to head next. So Sam and Dean, being the people they were, offered to take you in until you could figure things out. That was seven months ago and since then the bunker had become a home of sorts, and the Winchesters had become your closest allies.

After taking a moment to get comfortable and let the last bits of adrenaline, anxiety and fear from the hunt drain from your body, you head for the kitchen and hope one of the brothers had the sense to pick up some food before you'd left for the vampire nest. You hear the two hunters enter the kitchen a few moments later, Dean leaning up against the counter and Sam dropping into a chair at the table.

"Please tell me there's some fucking food in this place, I'm starving." You say turning to face them.

"I think there's an old box of mac 'n cheese somewhere." Weariness litters Dean's voice as he walks over and starts rifling through the cupboards. He tosses the box onto the counter and grabs a pot from one of the drawers, filling it with water and turning on the stove. You lean back and suck in a sharp breath, wincing as the counter presses right into a bruise on your lower back.

"Hey, are you okay y/ n? Did you get hurt? Let me see." Sam's former tired and nearly comatose form moves swiftly in front of you, his hands on your shoulders as he stares into your eyes, looking for any sign of injury. The heat from his hands makes your skin tingle and turn hot. You let out a shaky breath at the contact, and Sam's brow furrows, his fingers pressing a little harder into your arms.

"Nah, it's all good just hit a bruise." You hated to see him so worried over you, so you give him a small smile and move your hand to his arm. Sam yanks back at the contact with a yelp and you notice the faint drops of blood trickling down the exposed part of his wrist.

"Dammit Sam, why didn't you tell me it was still bleeding?" You drag him over to the table and pull up the sleeve of his shirt before he can protest. The cut on his arm is deeper than you originally thought, and you curse at yourself for forgetting about him. He never makes himself a priority, hell, he'd probably let himself bleed to death if he thought it would inconvenience someone. Gently, you inspect the wound, unsure if it needs stitches or not and Dean hurries over to join you at the table, antiseptic wash and a roll of bandages tucked under his arm.

The pot on the stove boils over and you leave Dean to finish up the wound care. Standing in the heat from the stove, you feel the exhaustion finally catching up with you. You attempt to shake the tiredness from yourself and focus all your attention on making dinner, hoping you can stay awake long enough to actually eat some.  You glance over to the boys, both now in their seats and fighting the same fatigue you are. Sam lays his head down onto the table and Dean slouches so far down into his chair he might as well be on the floor. Smiling at the image of the two of them, you finish up cooking and bring it to the table, sliding in next to Sam who bumps you with his shoulder and grunts in thanks. Dean takes his bowl and pats your hand mumbling something that sounds like 'thanks kiddo' and you give him a smile. You all eat in silence and Dean takes the dishes to the sink.

As soon as you stand from the table, a wave of energy hits and you know that now, no matter how hard you try, you're not going to be able to sleep. With a loud groan that grabs the attention of both Winchesters, you sulk over to the area furnished as a living room and grab the TV remote off one of the side tables, flicking it on. An episode of  _Storage Wars_  you've seen a million times plays and just as you're about to fall down into the couch Dean's hand grabs your wrist, pulling you back up.

"Dibs on the couch!" He says, tossing himself along the three-person couch and snuggling down into it.

"Asshole," you mutter, eliciting a smirk from Dean, and you move over to the smaller love seat. You get about halfway to it before Sam intercepts you, his puppy dog eyes set to full blast. Rather than fight the inevitable, you send him a playful glare and walk over to the last remaining seat in the room: a tiny armchair tucked right beside the TV. You turn the TV off since you can't exactly watch it from your position and the way Sam and Dean are already collapsed into their spots assures you they aren't planning on moving anytime soon.

"So I'm figuring you guys are gonna sleep out here then?"

"Bedrooms are too far away." Sam grumbles just loud enough for you to hear and it pulls a small laugh from you and Dean. Deciding you'd rather be out here with them than in your room on the other side of the bunker; you flop down into the armchair and look at the brothers, slightly hoping one of them will take pity and offer to share. When after a few seconds neither of them speaks up, you turn yourself on the couch so your head is against one armrest and your legs drape over the other. It isn't very comfortable and you consider just laying on the floor, but instead just close your eyes and will your mind to sleep.

You hear the Winchester's breathing even out and then a soft snore that you assume comes from Dean. A smile creeps its way up for no real reason and you open your eyes to look at the boys. Dean is shirtless (when did that happen?) and on his stomach, his head resting on his crossed arms. He always looks so peaceful when he's asleep, like the world is off his shoulders and you wish he could have that kind of peace all the time. You glance over to see Sam completely crunched up into a ball, knees tucked against his chest and his hair falling over his face. He'd removed most of his layers and is only in his jeans and t-shirt. Sam never looks calm when he's asleep, like even unconscious he's still trying to fight off some sort of evil. You never really noticed just how beautiful they both were before. Of course you'd noticed that they were sexy as hell, but you always tried to keep it at that, doing your best not to let yourself go any farther down that road. It was never good to get involved with others on the job since it always ended bloody, sad or awkward. Better to keep it uncomplicated and leave everything else to dreams and fantasies. Settling back into the chair, you hope sleep comes easy and you can just fast forward to morning, Dean's perfect pancakes and a relief from the aching all over your body.

But as with everything else in your life, it doesn't.

You try wiggling around on the couch, but each new position becomes irritating within a few moments. You spend what feels like hours shifting, mumbling curses under your breath. You consider just giving up on the living room all together, but once again the thought of being so far away from Sam and Dean now combined with the struggle you've put up to get comfortable makes you weirdly determined to sleep out here on this damned chair.

Standing up, you pace quietly around the living room trying to think of a way to make this work and stealing glances at the sleeping forms of the Winchesters. Then it hits you: Music. You figure the mellow playlist you cooked up a while back will be just the thing to lull you right to sleep. You walk towards the front of the bunker where you faintly remember placing your bag down and dig through the front pocket. Pulling out the nearly ancient iPod, untangling the headphones, you place the buds in your ears as you head back to the living room. You situate yourself across the armchair in the only position that was comfortable and pressed play, adjusting the volume so it won't prevent you from sleeping or disturb Sam or Dean. The first notes of a slow and sweet song drift into your head and you mouth the words, letting the melody loosen your stress and worries from the hunt. The calm settling within you moves deep into your core and you know this is the greatest idea you've ever had. When the song ends and fades out the experience starts over again; each new lyric and melody draining every negative emotion and you keep yourself from making too much noise.

***

Just as you're about to turn the volume down to a whisper and give another attempt at sleep, the opening chords of a song you know well flow into your head, so you quickly place it on repeat. The deep melody warms your entire body and you shift slightly in the armchair. The heat inside of you makes your body ache and a sweet shiver runs down your spine. You follow the sensation, rolling your shoulders and lifting your hips, reaching a hand up into your hair. Without making too much noise you move softly to the music, letting the rhythm of the song guide your movements. A spark ignites in your mind and you move your other hand along your body, your fingers trailing along the sides of your breasts, teasing them through your shirt and bra. The music continues to edge you on and you sit up, slipping your hands behind your back, unclasping your bra and tossing it to the floor, but you leave your shirt on in the off chance one of the brothers catch you. The thought of the brothers catching you, however, sends a jolt of pleasure between your thighs and a smirk finds its way to your lips. You slide your hands along every inch of your body, using your nails to lightly scrape along your legs through the denim of your jeans, up along your sides, around your neck and tangling in your hair. Arching into the touch, you press back into the armchair, consumed by the song playing in your head and the touches ghosting over your skin.

From the corner of your eye you see one of the figures on the couch shift, and you push yourself to a sitting position. You bite your lip to pull back the dirty smile you feel inching its way inside you,  as you stand up off the couch and reach down to unbutton your jeans, dipping your fingers into the waistband and rolling your hips. Slowly you drag your jeans down and off, leaving you only in your shirt and panties and a shiver runs through you as the cool air of the bunker makes contact with your skin. You lower yourself back down slowly, hooking one leg over the armrest and pressing into the corner of the chair. You trail the tips of your fingers along the inside of your thighs and move your other hand up to massage your breasts under your shirt as the heat began building up at your core. Your breath hitching as you move your hands under the elastic of your panties, dragging the fabric down your legs, lifting your hips and letting it hang around one ankle.

It took all your effort not to think of anyone, to only let the pleasure fill your senses as you dipped a hand past the waistband, but as you drifted closer and closer with every touch the image of the two hunters edged into your mind. Their gun-rough hands became the ones running along your skin, their stubble scratching against your neck and sucking bruises into your skin, alternating between rough and gentle touches as they hold you between them. You bite your lip to stifle another moan, moving small circles around your clit with one hand and teasing your nipples with the other. The coil inside you tightens and you force your thighs against the armrest, lifting your hips to try and get more than you can give.

The song fades out and in again, sounding distant from where your headphones had fallen onto the floor and you tangle a hand into your hair, tugging as you inch closer and closer. Fantasy takes hold once more and it's their hands in your hair, straining your body flush against theirs. One is behind you, kissing your neck as they move hands to cup and tease every inch of skin while the other wraps your legs around his waist. Without warning your climax spirals through you, hitting every nerve, your body shuddering and you call out their names before you can stop yourself.

Once you finally come down, breathing heavy and body covered in sweat, you slowly rearrange yourself so you're sitting and pull your panties back on. You reach down and grab your iPod from where it had fallen onto the floor and turn off the music still drifting low and steady. Then you hear it; ragged breathing coming from the other side of the room.

"God  _damn_ , y/ n," Dean rasps as he lies back against his couch, "could've let us in on the fun, you know. 

"You didn't have to take care of it all on your own." Sam's voice sounds just as wrecked as Dean's, as you turn your attention to the other Winchester who is also sitting up now, his hands gripping his thighs.

"Maybe next time." You say as you stand, giving them both a smirk before walking off towards your room, leaving your bra and jeans on the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are appreciated, and let me know what you think and if I should continue this or not!


End file.
